The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse

It's time. They are here.


9. --Are

'Are you mad?' Was the question on everyone's lips as I asked them whether they could hear the laughter. I'm having fun, I have to say. People stare at me, as if I'm mad, but I'm having fun. I hear them talking about sending me to mental hospital. Even more fun. Laughter has become my greatest friend, nowadays. After all, no one else talks to me any more...

War looked out on the battle. She felt a gentle burning on her shoulder and reached up to stroke the intruding muzzle. Her horse huffed into her hair, making some sort of horsey remark. Sometimes she envied Conquest and Death. They could speak to their horses. She supposed her horse didn't exactly make her image. After all, who would imagine a spirit of war with a horse with a flaming-mane? Maybe some did, but evidently not enough. Everyone imagined Death on a skeletal, or at least pale horse. Everyone would imagine a sort of king on a pure-white horse. But War? Nah, she didn't get a talking horse. She just got one that was on fire.

She rubbed the soft red nose, before swinging herself onto its back. Its mane cracked fiery reds and oranges, yellows curling around its short, red fur. Her horse reared as she drew her sword and brandished it in the air. Soldiers stopped in their tracks, mouths forming O's as they watched the rider on the flaming horse gallop into their midst. Again the air was filled with fighting. Swords clashed against others.

1066 is a fun era to fight in. War thought to herself. Unlike the others, she could... time travel. Well, to any point in history in which a major battle took place. She could return as many times as she wished, and they still wouldn't remember her. Her in past times would just... fade away, to be replaced by herself now. She galloped between the fighting armies, sometimes running up the hill, sometimes exchanging a blow with one of those trying to penetrate the shield-wall at the top. Switching sides. They never expected her to do that. She didn't belong to either side, so she was allowed.

William the Conqueror vs Harold Godwinson. The battle of Hastings. A battle filled with tactics and silly mortals. War almost started laughing again as she thought of the mistakes the Saxon's made. 


After hours of fighting, she finally mounted her horse. With a final glance at the battle below, her horse began pounding air. Soldiers looked up, before the horse and its rider simply... disappeared. They looked back down to earth, wondering why they had looked to the sky in the first place.


A fine mist of embers sprinkled down on the houses below. A torch lit up the sky, amazing many children who were still peering out of their windows. It sped away, giving out neighs and whinnies as it did.

War held her sword out parallel to her horse, for no other reason but to cool herself off. Fighting was hard work, and made you hot and sweaty. That was probably the only drawback for War, though. Her hair streamed behind her, as her horse's tail burned bright and red behind it.

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